


Witching Hour Goodnight

by genocideandgenesis



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: A Tale of Two Stans spoilers, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post Episode: s02e12 A Tale of Two Stans, now featuring the Pines Family Sleeping Habits, with cameos from Dipper and Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genocideandgenesis/pseuds/genocideandgenesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first night after Ford’s return, Stan can’t sleep. Mabel can’t either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witching Hour Goodnight

Stan hesitated outside the twins’ bedroom. Normally he didn’t say goodnight after they’d gone upstairs, just shouted it from the first floor before sneaking into the basement workshop, but tonight, he stood with his hand resting against the door, waiting, unsure if he should open it.

It was late. It had been a long twenty-four hours, considering the agents, the anomalies, his _brother_ —

Stanford had refused to sleep in the bedroom that had once been his; he’d insisted on it until he’d actually seen it, at which point he’d made a disgusted scoffing noise and retreated down to the couch, where he was currently huddled, making snuffling sounds in his sleep the way he’d done decades ago.

Now it was three in the morning, and Stan couldn’t stop tossing and turning, and now here he was standing in front of the kids’ room, hand on the rough wood of the door.

“Three in the morning’s a little late to say goodnight to a couple of kids, Stan,” he muttered wryly to himself, his voice hoarse with lack of sleep.

If he just wanted to… reassure himself… that they were still there… there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

He pushed open the door, very gently, so it wouldn’t make a sound.

Dipper was sprawled out over his bed, hair sticking in all directions, one hand curled around a pen that he hadn’t put away before falling asleep. Stan’s mouth quirked up at the sight.

Mabel’s bed was empty. His mouth turned back down. “Hey… kid?” he said, voice gravelly but soft. He tried clearing his throat for a better whisper. “Mabel?”

“G-Grunkle Stan?”

He squinted through the dark. She was sitting on the floor in the corner, arms wrapped around her knees. She looked up at him, eyes watering.

“Kid?” He hurried over to her, dropped down to his knees. “What’s wrong? You, you hurt or something?”

She shook her head and buried her face in her knees.

“Hey, kid, kid. It’s okay.” He put one arm on her shoulder. She raised her head, sniffled, and threw herself into his arms. “Dipper try to talk science at you?” he tried, though the joke fell flat and he knew it.

Her mouth wobbled.

“Come on, kid, it’s gonna be okay,” he said, even as his brother was sleeping on the couch downstairs, even as he knew that if he didn’t pull his act together, he’d be out of the Mystery Shack in a matter of weeks, back on the road for the first time in years.

Mabel sniffled.

“Look, kid, we’re gonna make this work. Things are a little weird right now, is all. Things have been weirder. I mean, you saw—” He broke off with a cough, because making jokes about their brothers wouldn’t fly right now. “You get it, kid. It’ll be okay.”

She nodded.

“You wanna tell me anything?” That was what he was supposed to do, wasn’t it? Ask questions? Hope she’d tell him if something was wrong?

But Mabel shook her head, so he kept his arms wrapped around her until she pulled back, wiping her eyes.

“You good, kid?”

She nodded. She was being weirdly quiet, but then again, it was three in the morning.

Stan ruffled her hair. “C’mon, get some sleep, okay? I’ll make Stancakes in the morning.”

He tucked Mabel in. As he closed the door, he cast one last look at her lying on her bed, eyes squeezed shut as she pretended to sleep. Outside their room, he leaned against the worn-out walls, resting his head against the wood. Everything would be different when the sun came up. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of an A-Z "angst off" (quotes used because I keep writing accidental fluff) with howlsmovingwalmart. The prompt this time around was "C is for Corner." Expect A and B shortly; I'm going out of order, haha. Thanks for reading!


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